


Enamor |Violinist!Levi x Reader| AU

by McHeichou



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin
Genre: Gen, Levi - Freeform, aot - Freeform, attackontitan, reader - Freeform, shingekinokyojin, snk, violin, violin concert, violinist!levi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-17
Updated: 2015-07-11
Packaged: 2018-03-30 23:12:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3955495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/McHeichou/pseuds/McHeichou
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Violinist!Levi x reader.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_+_  
On one side, moist wind carried miniscule tears of sleepless beings wandering in the dark, swearing upon their ill lucks, wishing find any stray piece of food to fill their contracted stomachs. On the other side of that devious glass door which separated the opulent from the wretched, there were various mortals with valuable green papers dubbed as 'money' stuffed lazily in their rhinestone-studded pockets. Through this crystal-clear glass door, the impecunious could see the affluent jubilate but couldn't reach them. All they could do was touch the vitreous material with their frail fingers and mourn.

A coarse, old- fashioned red diary with beige pages blemished by sloppily scribbled reviews was being held by palms half its size. "Let's see...Levi Ackerman, a famous violinist. Tsk, how can people pay shitloads for a single piece by him," you muttered as you clicked open the pen to write his name on top of a new page. "Rich maudlin shits," you remarked with nose scrunched up in loathing.

A wise person once told you that wealthy people were like wolves, ready to chew those with the aura of fear grinded in their bones. You took that advice into consideration and tried to keep your fright to yourself. 'They are not wolves. They are foxes with their self-satisfied smirks and ill-disguised conceit.' 

"A fifteen minute show and I can finally publish another review in my blog." You entered the hall, the air filled with a thick and not to mention eye-tearing mixture of acidic perfumes belonging to those flamboyant and confident ladies who seemed to have no problem whatsoever sitting in such an atmosphere.'How can I forget,' you corrected yourself, 'they are used to such things.' 

There were so many distinguished people around you dressed in various colors and expensive stones. A lady caught your eye, her hair were swept off her face into a cascade of thick and deliberately messy curls which framed her neck the gentlest way possible. But what got you snickering was that her dress was apple-red and coincidentally matched with the hall's seats, hence, justifying her frown.

You looked at yourself, feeling under-dressed in simple jeans and top. No wonder the security questioned if you had stolen the tickets to this show or not. Actually, your grandfather had gifted you these tickets for he himself had quite a taste in good old music which seemed to caresses his weak eardrums softly rather than damaging them with raging teenage songs. You tried your best to decline the gift as you only reviewed bands and not single musicians, let alone a violinist. Alas, failure followed. You sat on a plush seat in the front row, directly facing the stage. The ambience was light and not at all full of anticipation. You expected chatters but were encountered with patient waits from the audience. 

'Bleh, etiquettes,' you inwardly groaned. The lights dimmed down apart from the soft glow focused on the string orchestra. All of them looked like pale lifeless dolls, only to serve as an entertainment source for the rich. But who can blame them? They were just trying to make money, aware of the fact that they had to bow down their heads in front of strangers. 

It was truly a chaotic world. A rotten cycle of life. 

You tapped your fingers against the armrest to show a little rebellion. Oppressive glances and hushes directed towards you, ceasing every movement of yours. You huffed, sinking down into your seat and opened the red diary, ready to write but were distracted by a small figure dressed in an immaculate tux walking towards the middle of the stage, announcing his arrival with a rather disturbing clicking of heels against the wooden floor. A shiny violin was being held by its neck as the famous violinist helped himself under a bright light focused at the center of the stage. 

You felt like an outsider in such a place. His arrival seemed to breathe life into the hall, with sound of claps rolling against the walls, flowing into every fissure and surging back. He didn't seem to acknowledge the greetings but only a twitch of his nose told you that he too didn't have a liking for the strong scent that permeated the hall's air.

"Start already," you groaned. An old lady dressed in lilac turned back to shoot you a glare, successfully shutting your mouth, making you feel irritated more than ever.

Levi brought his bow down onto the strings, telling the orchestra to start. As the first note hit, all life was swept away from the hall, falling into a dead silence of awe. Each and every hair on your neck stood up in a silent salute. Your nails raked across the armrest,' W-what? F-Five seconds?' Only five seconds had passed and you were already resisting an urge to cry. The music crawled on your skin, slithering like a snake, proudly showing its fluidity and sheen. 

With shaking fingers, you pushed the tears away. Inferior. That's how you felt right now. Levi's bow danced on the slender neck of the wicked instrument, expertly stroking its strings to produce the most dominating tunes. The sound echoed in the hall, supressing the mortals, making them feel worthless of their existence. 

'It's so different,' you couldn't help that thought. It was imperious. You didn't feel refreshed or lost in that evergreen maze of lapping sounds but were left awake and aware. You squirmed uncomfortably in your seat, surrendering to the arrogant music which made you think about reality rather than illusions that mediocre musicians presented. The harmony scratched on your wounds, freshening them, showing how barbaric and atrocious verisimilitude can be. 

The light illuminated his pale skin, matching the perfect set of porcelain doll-like musicians behind to accompany him. 'No, he's not like them....he's different.' A ghost of a smirk adorned his thin lips as he flashed open his eyelids to look at the puny particles of dirt before him. The same people who considered themselves magnificent having their teeth stained ruby with pricy wine, were now left as trivial as monochromatic chess pieces before the melody. 

His ashen eyes flickered towards you, watching your expressions with a steady gaze. 'Why me? Why not someone else?' Then you looked at your clothes with blurry and aching red eyes, 'Oh, that's why.' 

You wanted nothing but to leave and cry your heart out. Cry at humanity and its limitless cruelty. Cry at reality. 

Your head shook here and there, ensuring if other people too had the same thoughts as yourself. Black rivers of mascara ran down the pearly white and powdered faces of women whilst the men tried hard to maintain their persona as stoic as possible. But truly, their esteem was now charred and their vanity crushed. 'Maybe that's what he wanted to achieve? Make the rich feel puny.' The piece ended with a note as ethereal as fog itself, masking the world yet again. 

Cycle of life. 

It was like a candle, filling every speck of darkness. But when the flame went out, what happened then? The darkness returned again. Chain. Everything was a cycle, an isochronism. This music was no exception. 

Levi bowed half-heartedly in front of the audience and took his leave. So did everyone after an ear-tearing wave of claps. A sobbing mess called (Name) refused to get up from the seat until she was sure her sanity wasn't damaged. Oh how much your heart burnt with the melancholic harmony still ringing in your ears. 

Scrambling, you opened up your red possession to write about Levi but words couldn't explain what you felt right now. "What the hell?" you cursed yourself. "Think, think, think!" You chanted this mantra for what seemed like hours. The pen rolled in between your fingers while your face was contoured in irritation.

"Need some help?" a voice called behind you, causing you to whip your head towards the source. The same devil of melodies was standing behind you with his dexterous fingers inside the pocket of his pants. 

You gasped, "S-sir?" 

"Tch, shitty brat, I'm not old," he took a seat beside you, looking directly at the entry concerning his name in the diary. A rosy blush covered your cheeks while you dropped your head low in embarrassment. 

"I just couldn't...write a review about.....you." A sigh made its way out of your throat with annoyance engraved on it. 

"Tsk, you don't know me well enough to write anything about me," he looked the other way, his black bangs dancing on his forehead. 

"Oh well...." You were very much uncomfortable with his presence. Why? Because he was rich? Or because he was so puzzling and enigmatic that it scared you to even look at him? 

"Did you..like it?" 

You reluctantly smiled at him but answered truthfully, "Yes, it was very beautiful." 

"I aim to serve, Miss.....?" 

"(Name)," you answered while tightening your grip on the diary. 

"......" he thought for a second, "how about...you and I go to a near .....coffee shop..and then I'll help you with the review or interview whatever shit you want." 

'She's so...different,' Levi thought.

"S-Sure." 

He smirked ever so lightly, "You know, (Name), where words fail, music speaks."

_+_


	2. Enamor 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 2 of Enamor |Violinist!Levi x reader|

Seduction.

From velvet beds ,silken beaded blindfolds and dazzling materials which caressed one's body, seduction has its simple meanings too. An innocent upward curve of honeyed ruby lips approve the actions of a male trying to persuade her into his bed. Small loving glances exchanged to a beloved, or maybe not to a beloved. One can never be sure if these seduction techniques were only valid to the ones that a person knew. After all, at the end of the day, the main goal is to achieve physical comfort and someone to lean on; it should not matter if we claim it from a stranger or not.

Should it?

The sun took a dip into the horizon to let the moon breathe, wisps of light escaping, dissolving into the atmosphere to illuminate the night. The sky blanketed in all black with silver dots adorning it. It looked seductive in its own way. 

For Levi, seduction was in music.

The way marvelous melodies purred to him, nipped on his ears, dragged its saccharine self over his eardrums and touched every part of his soul, was better than any human interaction he could get nowadays. 

From his view, music was the only master of seduction which held great power and acknowledged its responsibilities, for it knew that if once played wrong, could result to im-mendable broken hearts, shattered dreams and unsatisfied audience . 

It is powerful, it is voltaic, it is seduction.

But that didn't mean that Levi never experienced the tender touch of a woman. He appreciated that they took some free time out of their valuable schedule to please him; he even dedicated some of his violin pieces to those ladies as a token to show his gratitude but never went far in his relationships. 

Art. 

Seduction, alluring was an art, each move was calculated; the fun was in the journey and not in the fruit. 

Poets found romance in words, so did you. But to you, finding romance in books was nothing but insipid. Yes, it was true that you enjoyed reading those novels but to be brutally honest, it was getting very tiring reading about how other people or fictional characters found their soul mates, if those things even exist. To find your thrill, you took interest in starting up your own little blog to post your thoughts about different musicians.

But a certain violinist made it extremely difficult for you to complete your job.

'I want to....die,' you sighed thoughtfully, slightly disturbed by the atmosphere of the café in which you and Levi were currently sitting inside. You could smell infatuation in the air. Such a weird trait for a meager coffee shop. Well-dressed couples were walking in the café, their shoe-heels clicking against the golden-veined marble floor to remind you of the precious time ticking away merrily as no words were being exchanged between you two. 

Well, one couldn't just burst a conversation on other's face. Time is needed to settle, to seep in, to adjust and then the real pleasure of a conversation begins- interminable speaking, pouring sentiments out, showing your real self. 

"Uhh...should we start?" you asked, trying to break the thin ice, uneasiness lacing the audibility of your voice. 

"Hmm," he seemed bored, "go on, ask."

You fumbled with your diary and opened up a fresh page to write, "Why did you want to become a violinist?" 

He frowned, probably because the question was far too mediocre. Perhaps he was questioning himself if you were even an experienced reviewer or not. So far, he couldn't come to any conclusions. "I had been raised in an......" he waited a beat, "orphanage and a person once donated an old violin, which came onto my share because none of the children wanted it...so I guess it started from there." 

"-I am sorry to hear that." 

"Don't say sorry when you don't mean it," he casually played with a menu card rested on a thin curvy black stand, "move on." 

"Uhh, okay," you folded your hands and without him noticing, you took out your cell phone and pressed the recording button on it to capture any interesting information which he might not let you write in your diary. "Are you gay?" 

"What kind of question is that?!" he scowled, bending across the table with his shirt pressing firmly on his chest, to give you a flick on the cheek, causing a burning sensation to erupt.

"Ow! I'm sorry!" you exclaimed, fidgeting uncomfortably. Grief-filled, you wrote a 'yes, he is gay' on your diary.

Levi 'tch'd' and snatched the beige-paged possession of yours only to toss it towards the farthest corner of the coffee table. 

"Hey!"

"Hey to you too," he replied. 

"What the hell!? Wasn't it supposed to be an interview," you frowned and a sudden realization struck you, "Why the hell am I even doing an interview, I review stuff!"

"I was asking myself the same thing, but you know, you can make your blog a tad bit more popular if you add this interview shit. And stop asking stupid questions," he said in a calm voice which made you regret your outburst and unprofessional behaviour. He gave you your diary back but didn't withdraw his hand. Cold fingers swept near the veins of your wrist, travelling towards your palm, forcing it open. "And certainly, no recording," he pressed the cancel button on your phone.

'Jesus fucking Christ kill me!' you mentally cursed, heart beating like parade drums. You dipped your head low, resting your chin on the back of your hand. "Alright alright, I'm sorry. Okay here is another one, why does this piece, which you've composed, so dark-themed?" you asked, looking anywhere but at the enigmatic man before you, a faint blush of embarrassment blooming on your cheeks.

You found yourself shrinking into the corner of the seat, away from him, mimicking the distance you felt building between you two.

His eyes wandered a bit to read your thoughts through your expressions but your stiff face didn't show any. 'Is she afraid of me or something?' he pondered.

Your mind was partially focused on the glistening dew particles stuck on the glass, droplets of heavy ones running down. 'Is it really cold out there?'

"Dark-themed? It was not 'dark-themed', as you stated it was. I will not lecture you on its 'deep meaning' or whatever. It was simply music, a little different, but each and every piece of mine falls under the same category as any musician. Simply music," Levi spoke. 

You jotted down everything he said but you weren't satisfied. From your eyes, the violin bit he composed was dominating, it seemed to fit perfectly with the working of society. Like a puzzle piece, it filled in a lone hole in your heart.

The unjust seek dominance and control. This world is unjust, it seeks control.

But Levi defied dominance, he challenged control. Control of the music. So, this was the conclusion- he was the begetter of harmonies, the controller, all in all- perfection in a musician.  
You had found a new definition of music. A new angle to look at the thought-provoking virtuoso in front of you.

You wouldn't tag yourself as a philosopher. You simply liked to dig out meanings.

"Simply music, huh?" you curiously stated, "Alright. As you say." There was no point in arguing with him, and to add, you would be a bit uncomfortable if you were to start a full-fledged discussion about the topic he was so well-versed in. 

'Why isn't he replying? This is awkward..' you thought.

"Well," he began, "if you interpret it differently, I have no problem with that." You were intriguing him to no end. 

"I'm not changing its meaning I'm jus-" 

"What about you, (Name)? What is a shitty brat like you merely reviewing things, without any pay or shit? Do you even have a job?" he asked, a smirk coating his arrogant thin lips. 

You smirked wider, "Me? Well, the blog thing is for my own peace of mind...but I also own a bookstore, well, it is my grandfather's but still, you get it right?" 

"Hmmm, I'll visit sometime," he said, standing up, brushing his pants with his fingers to remove any possible dust particle stuck on it. 

"Eh? Where are you going? But I didn't even-" 

"It is cold outside. We should better get going or it will start to snow.." Levi explained, "Sorry I couldn't talk longer but...I had a fair time, although very short. Let's go then."

You frowned, ' He is going to drop me home, right? How the hell am I supposed to reach home if he isn't...? Though I don't have any, it is freezing balls out there!'

"Alright, I had a good time too..." you stood up only to extend out a friendly hand, breaking your walls of uneasiness. He took your hand in his, cold fingers colliding with warm ones, making you flinch at the temperature difference. 

"Okay.." You tried to pull your hand away, but Levi didn't let go, he pulled you towards the wooden exit door, perplexity coating your undefined footsteps. 'Oh Lord, he's holding my hand..Why the hell are my cheeks burning! No! Stop! I'm not supposed to blush-'

"Don't you want to go home?" He adjusted his onyx cuff links by releasing your hand. You clenched your hand into a fist, taking even breaths and looked at the cab in front of you.

'Did he order it? When?' you asked yourself. Slowly, your skin perceived the coolness of the night, surfacing a piercing feeling. 

"Let's get in ! It's freezing here !" your conscious self spoke which was more focused on letting you live rather than questioning Levi in this icy weather.

You opened the cab door and got in, rubbing your hands together to get coolness out. Levi got in after you and checked his watch. 

He wasn't planning on going anywhere after, his last stop being his comfortable house. You, on the other hand were planning on joining Eren, your best friend and partner in crime, in a family dinner for he was too scared to face his father alone after three big years of vanishing into thin air. Poor Eren, you pitied his state right now; he'll have to face his family matter without your support.

But right now, your little fluttering inconsistent heart was on the verge of being audible enough for him to hear your anxiety. Your thoughts were ranging from, 'I shouldn't be here with a stranger!' to 'What if we were together?' 

Your conscience was being too strict and your fiend was crafting uncertain images of stupid love stuff. 

The cab drove with an acceptable speed, frenetic flow of cars and flash of buildings beside you. 

In no time, it came to an abrupt stop, disturbing the train of thoughts in your mind.

You got out as quickly as you could and looked at the surroundings. "Awesome, if I just walk swift steps from here, I'll be able to reach home without dying from hypothermia." 

"Oi, lady, my money?" the driver asked. 

You pulled a dollar from your purse and shoved the money in his hand. Levi's eyes dug holes into yours, his eyes removed that bored expression only to reveal a glance of such a scorching force which sucked the air out of your lungs. 

Enigmatic.

That's the category you'd put him under. 

"Will meet again, (Name)? I think I'd want to meet you again," he said, sitting elegantly inside the warm looking cab. 

"Uh, sure!"

"At my place, I'll message you the address and the time," he informed with a bit of seductive mix in his voice. He might not have intended his tone to come out as seductive but his deep and plain voice along with an accent you couldn't piece together certainly gave off that feel. 

You gulped, wide-eyed, "B-But my number?"

"No worries, I have your number, brat."  
_+_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please give your feedbacks!!! I'd like to know if I should continue it or not


	3. Enamor 3

There is a moment when people lose thrill in their lives and have nothing to do. Everything is so null and void. At that very moment, that speck of time, people start looking deep into the meaning of simple things which, well, weren't meant to be interpreted as if they had a complex constitution.

The same was happening to you.

"I see....so the author meant to make the readers realize that.....no my statement seems to contradict with this book." You traced the wrinkled spine of the book and straightened the curled up page edges to place it back into the polished bookshelf. 

"It seems as if I have gone mad...or am turning into an old man," you spoke to yourself. If your conscience had allowed you to think about the contents in that book for an hour more or so, then your name would've been on the top most position in the éclat of philosophers.

'Trost is so.....blue.' 

A rolling noise disturbed your tangled mind to be further knotted into delusional theories about the existence of the colour blue. 

Moving your head to a slightly uncomfortable angle, your sight laid on an old man staring back at you. Despite his old age, he still had a twinkle of zeal in his eyes. His words, so firm, yet dignified, often give off shades of wisdom which would momentarily evoke the threads of logic in one's mind. 

'Old age doesn't mean wisdom and youth doesn't mean innovation.' The same old guy would quote this statement from God knows which book and lessen his worth, it was his way of being nice and down to Earth. The second string about 'youth' might have been directed to you but after years of living together, you knew you shouldn't take his bitter comments at heart.

"Grandpa," you smiled and twisted around fully to see him, "why'd you come? I was managing the shop well on my own." 

"Oh no, I'm not here to work," he laughed, most probably because him working in your shop would only be deemed as a dream come true, "I was bored skype-ing with your grandma so I came here to disturb you." 

You chuckled and looked out of the wooden-framed window to see if any person was nearing your shop. 

The yellow hue of the walls did not match with the dull, pallid weather of Trost. There were hardly any sun rays to play with the vibrancy of your bookstore. The damp weather outside stuck to the glass, blurring the view as people's sight tried to claw on the books displayed, thus, acting as a liquid hurdle between you and money. 

This town- a muted palette of dull blue, washed out yellow and worn out green. 

Your eyes laid on Carla's beautiful flower shop, morning dews adorning those vibrant petals. Good for business. Her shop was painted a shade of blue which got along with the suffocating ambience of Trost. At the same time, that shop gave off a refreshing feeling.  
Must have been those flowers. 

Eren was helping her mother arrange the blue bells on a display table. Skilled hands pulled, shuffled, arranged and watered them. 

Blue bells, blue walls, blue Trost. So synchronized. 

The sky was a mournful grey today. Concrete buildings rose high above you. The whole street was a train of shops, lined together, one adjacent to other. It looked so congested but unfortunately land couldn't be bought easily, especially in Trost where most of the land was owned by wealthy government people-officials, the Mayor's dogs. So, people had no other choice but to open up their business here. 

At the dead end of the street, the darkest portion which may have never tasted even a speck of warm sunlight, there was a blacksmith's shop, Reiner's shop. 

Even a whole bunch of Carla's flowers couldn't dilute that concentrated chilly aroma.

With a dry cloth you swiped across the display glass, pads of fingers often touching the cool material only to make a shudder run across your figure and a curse ring across your tongue. 

With the glass now transparent instead of translucent, you asked your grandfather, "Remind me again why we painted our shop yellow?" 

"Your mother insisted," he answered with a smile, making the skin around his eyes crumple.

"Oh yes, right," you stared at the insurmountable pile of books to arrange. Out of irritation, you tapped your foot against the wooden floor, an abrupt stop ensued. "I forgot to thank you for the tickets. So, thank you. I had a great time there."

"I knew it! Ackerman's tunes are really a beauty." He smirked, probably because he had been right about classical music being a treat to the ears while you were constantly trying to support an opposing point by giving him examples of well-known bands.  
You were wrong and he fed on this new piece of information. 

"I know...it makes me think-"

The old man disturbed you by a chuckle, "You had always been a thinker type of girl," he paused, remembering your childhood traits, "you always questioned the working of everything, challenged the elders-" he referred to himself, "-these doubts of yours often itched on my skin. Why could you never see anything with a view of it being simple?" Offended, you shot him a glare, one which was diluted enough for his esteem to not get hurt. "But still I love you." He smiled."Remember, kiddo. Beauty is in simplicity," came out a finished sentence.

Wise.

"I see," you replied. Your intentions were not to piss him off with your, what he thought, complicated thinking; those tangled webs of arching thoughts. Your grandfather might not have been one of those cuddly bunny grandpas but his brutal honesty was what you liked. But you weren't going to modify yourself to a radical extent so that his wishes would get satisfied. 

He smiled, "I hope you didn't bother Mister Ackerman with your unique thoughts." 

You blushed scarlet. Unique thoughts? It seemed like his brain had been officially tagged as an old edition. "I am a meager human! And humans too have individual thoughts! And I didn't bother him at all!" Or so you thought.

"I see."

**Author's Note:**

> Please rate this work :)


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